


Make-Believe

by MeanderingMotivation



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Autism, Autism Spectrum, Autistic Prompto, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Hyperresponsiveness, Hyporesponsiveness, Insecure Prompto Argentum, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Perseveration, Prompto is on the spectrum, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Stimulatory Behavior, Therapy, comorbidity, self-injurious behavior
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-03-31 17:19:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13979865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeanderingMotivation/pseuds/MeanderingMotivation
Summary: When Prompto bangs his head on the desk, Noctis initially thinks it’s a joke. A melodramatic way of expressing that he’s exasperated with the workload their teacher is assigning.But then he bangs it again, and again, and Noctis isn’t so sure anymore.ORPrompto is on the spectrum, but has been too ashamed to admit it.





	1. Meltdown

**Author's Note:**

> A little disclaimer before anyone reads: I myself am not a medical professional. 
> 
> I do, however, have a lived experience of being on the spectrum, and have spent a large portion of my life around other people who have been diagnosed with autism, in varying states of severity. 
> 
> Anything I write is either based on experience or observation (mine or others) or has been researched prior to being written. I'm trying to keep Prompto as in character as I can. 
> 
> Autism spectrum disorders are VERY diverse, so if any readers think I'm missing something important, rest assured it is not done purposefully. 
> 
> Please enjoy reading :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little disclaimer before anyone reads: I myself am not a medical professional.
> 
> I do, however, have a lived experience of being on the spectrum, and have spent a large portion of my life around other people who have been diagnosed with autism, in varying states of severity.
> 
> Anything I write is either based on experience or observation (mine or others) or has been researched prior to being written. I'm trying to keep Prompto as in character as I can.
> 
> Autism spectrum disorders are VERY diverse, so if any readers think I'm missing something important, rest assured it is not done purposefully.
> 
> Please enjoy reading :D

 

 

* * *

 

 

His parents call it ‘ _A thing’_ because they don’t want to admit, even aloud to themselves, the diagnosis Prompto had been given in his toddler years.

Perhaps if they never verbalised it, it would go away, and they’d have the normal child they’d hoped for when they adopted him.

Certainly, he may have come from Niflheim, but did that really matter in the scheme of things? He was an innocent kid, and couldn’t be held responsible for Niflheim’s crimes.

But he was defective, in more than one way.

When he writhed and whined in certain fabrics as a baby, they thought he had allergies, and took him to see a paediatrician. After observing his behaviour in the session, the doctor immediately referred him to a specialist.

It had all gone downhill from there.

_‘Autism Spectrum Disorder_ ,’ they’d said.

_‘How severe?’_ His parents had asked.

_‘Only time will tell, but it is important we put early intervention strategies in place.’_

But that took effort, and time, and so often his career-focused parents forewent addressing the serious issues, hoping that Prompto would simply ‘grow out of them’.

So they fed him an unhealthy diet, because Prompto couldn’t stand the texture of some foods, and assumed that his ‘ _picky eating’_ was merely a phase. They never encouraged him to socialise, or took him to support groups to make friends, because he was ‘ _just a shy boy’_ , and his underperforming had _nothing_ to do with his inability to take social cues, or gauge other children’s facial expressions and body language.

And if any of the other kids bullied him? _‘Boys will be boys, after all_ ’, and if it became a real problem, they trusted Prompto to report any harassment to a teacher, even though he had no idea how to resolve conflict issues, and wasn’t confident enough to approach another kid his age, let alone a person in authority.

His lack of social skills were negatively impacting his life, and although there were definitely other people on the spectrum who were happier spending time by themselves, Prompto wasn’t one of them. He hated the crippling isolation, and the lack of support. Perhaps if his parents were home with him sometimes, he might have felt a little different.

A common misconception for ASD’s was that everyone on the spectrum was the same, when in reality, everyone was different. It wasn’t a category to leave people in.

It was a varying diagnosis that manifested itself uniquely in each person, although many similar symptoms remained, it was a broad scope.

If no two people were the same, how come so many neurologically typical people were happy to categorise atypical individuals as _one in the same?_

_‘People with autism have no empathy.’_

_‘They don’t grasp what’s acceptable, and unacceptable, which is why they seem to cause trouble.’_

_‘People with autism require life-long care and never truly live independently.’_

_‘They’d rather be absorbed in one task than socialise with other people.’_

And okay, maybe that may have been _vaguely_ applicable to some people on the spectrum (Prompto wasn’t going to try and deny that autism could be problematic sometimes, there was a reason they had agencies dedicated to helping treat aspects of it) and he wasn’t going to say that _none of that_ applied to him (he was more than a little obsessed with technology, and sometimes he seemed to accidentally cause trouble due to not reading atmospheres) but there was **_so much more than that._** How could people expect individuals with an ASD to integrate flawlessly into society, and live up to their ‘perfect ideals’ when they were being stereotyped in such a fashion?

Say you have an ASD? Never be treated the same way again. Live a limited life where everyone judged what you were capable of before you even really tried.

That was the reality a lot of people on the spectrum faced.

A reality Prompto himself loathed facing.

So when he finally managed to make a real friend (the prince of Lucis, no less) he wasn’t about to let anything mess up his newfound friendship. He’d lost the weight, started living healthier, and had even started seeing a support worker to help him catch up in his studies.

He was devoting a lot of time to improving himself, and it had taken courage and determination. At least, that was what his support worker said. She told him he was passing milestones every day, and that his parents ought to be proud.

His parents, proud? They wouldn’t even pay the funds he needed to attend the appointments. That would be solidifying that he _actually_ _had_ a diagnosis.

The health care legislation in the crown city was relatively good, but there were gaps when it came to autism, as there were in many areas that needed improvement. Prompto could probably attend some sessions for free if he had the relevant paperwork, but that would require signatures from his parents, as he was still _technically_ underage.

Noctis knew he worked so hard at his part-time job because he had to pay the rent and purchase groceries. What he didn’t know, was that in addition to that, Prompto had another ulterior motive that kept him going even when he wanted to collapse from exhaustion.

He needed the gil to pay for his treatment. _Privately._ Because even if his parents did agree to fill out the required paperwork, it would be filed with a government body, and Prompto wasn’t exactly an anonymous citizen anymore…

His entire _life_ had been under a microscope as soon as he’d first approached Noctis. There was no part of it that hadn’t been ruthlessly inspected by both Ignis and other security officials. Well, his adoption records were sealed, but they weren’t exactly looking for _them._ Prompto had never told anyone he wasn’t living with his biological parents…

His autism diagnosis? That was in his health records, also sealed. The only way anyone could access them was with parental permission, and his parents weren’t exactly easy to reach. Even when they were finally contacted (rather bemused that their son had managed to connect with anyone) the investigators hadn’t bothered to do more than a cursory check over his physical state. They didn’t pry into anything more personal.

Why should they? For all appearances, he was just a regular civilian.

Ignis was meticulous, but by the time they’d finally spoken to his parents, Prompto had already proven himself to the advisor. The other male had accepted him shortly thereafter, and soon enough, Prompto had _two_ new friends, in addition to Noctis.

And his job at the animal shelter? Nobody had to know his assigned community worker set that up for him. It had been established that Prompto got along better with animals than regular customers, and hands-on work suited his co-morbid Attention Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder. It was easier for him to stimulate himself when he wasn’t under the judging eyes of managers and focused colleagues…

He also doubled as the shelter’s unofficial photographer, taking pictures of pets to be put up for adoption, and helping the elderly owner upload them to the shelter’s official website and Mooglebook page. It was a nice way to factor in his main hobby, and he was very _satisfied_ where he was employed. Maybe it wasn’t pushing his comfort-zone enough, but who said he needed to be pushed, anyway? He was fine. _Everything was fine_.

“You should buy some chewable jewellery, Prompto.”

The suggestion makes Prompto blink, and he realises he’s gnawing on his fingers again. He can see the indents of his teeth in the flesh, but fortunately he hasn’t broken the skin this time. “Whoops.” He says, trying to maintain eye-contact like they’ve been practicing. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologise, Prompto. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Self-stimulatory behaviour is common in more conditions than just autism and AD/HD. So long as you aren’t harming yourself or others, I don’t see a problem with it. It may, however, be worthwhile investing in some chewable jewellery. Hands carry a lot of bacteria, and you don’t want to get sick.”

Prompto shook his head. “I’d feel like a baby with a pacifier if I brought any. Or a mom. I’ve seen mom’s wearing necklaces their teething babies can chew on.”

“How many people have you seen chewing their pens? It would be just like that, only without the risk of ink poisoning and damaging your teeth.”

She can be very persuasive.

Prompto shifts. “I’ll think about it.” He conceded.

She hums, doubtfully. “I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want, but I do have an order coming in from a certified supplier. They have manufactured some great products, and I’ll give you some free of charge if you change your mind. Just something to consider.”

“Thanks, Ma’am.” Prompto said, sincerely. 

She hums again, and Prompto is once more in awe of her ability to not fidget. No drumming on the keyboard of her computer, no tapping her heeled feet. He’d asked her once, how she’d managed it, and she’d told him that different clients responded to certain types of stimuli in varying ways, and someone who was over-sensitive to sound wouldn’t like too many additional noises.

It was why she had special lights that dimmed in all manners of ways, as some of her clients were over-sensitive to light.

Alternatively, she had more than one couch in her office. She had chairs and rugs, and the odd beanbag as well. It was so someone under-sensitive to movement (like Prompto) could bounce from one spot to the next, without having the need to run circles around the room. She also had an impressive selection of fidget toys, one of which Prompto had been spinning until he’d found himself with his fingers in his mouth. Again.

Her office felt safe to Prompto. Homely. He didn’t have to worry about ‘looking too spazzy’. It was a place of comfort and understanding.

A place he had to pay for? Yes. But Prompto knew that if he was ever strapped for gil, she would help him organise an arrangement where they could keep doing their sessions until a resolution was found.

“Let’s talk about school. You mentioned at our last session that exam season was coming up. Has studying and balancing work been a little overwhelming?”

“Ah, exams.” Prompto quipped. “My approaching demise.”

“Do exams give you a doomsday impression?”

“Kind of.” Prompto admitted, with a shrug. “I feel a lot of pressure to do well. I was behind in my studies for so long…”

“And you’ve progressed wonderfully. You should be proud of yourself.”

“But I just kind of feel, that if I don’t get top marks, I’ll be that stupid autistic kid again, who has no idea what is going on…” He finished, a little morosely. “I have one more year of high school left after this one, and I don’t want to be in the remediation classes again if I fall behind. Noct is so smart…”

“So your anxiety is more to do with living up to your self-imposed expectations?”

“When you put it like that…” Prompto picked up the spinner again, flicking it with his forefinger and watching it whirl _. Out of control_. It was an accurate representation of his life, at times. “It sounds dumb.”

“I am not here to invalidate your concerns or anxiety, Prompto. Labelling your feelings as ‘dumb’ in any scenario is unhelpful and ultimately anti-productive to your treatment. Worrying is a _natural human reaction_ , especially around exam periods for students. However, if these concerns and anxiety overwhelm you, it is time we start discussing ways to minimize their effect, and even reason with them, as well. Our ultimate goal is for you to be healthy, and as happy as circumstances permit.”

Not overly optimistic, but not downright pessimistic. Reasonable. She didn’t baby him, nor did she underestimate him, like some of the other therapists Prompto had seen did. It had taken time to find someone he could be matched with…

“But shouldn’t we talk just about autistic stuff? That’s what your organisation is about…”

“You are more than your diagnosis, Prompto, and it’s my job to help you **_as a person_** , not just as a classification. Besides, autism and anxiety can go hand in hand, just like other conditions. You have to try and remember not to segregate yourself, even in your own mind. I understand that it’s hard, but practice makes perfect, and we’ve done a good job so far, haven’t we?”

Prompto recalled what he’d been like, prior to seeking help.

Unsure, unconfident, unable to even initiate conversation, and _far_ behind in his studies.

Immature in many ways.

He’d come a long way, even if he still had a ways ahead of him yet.

“Yeah,” He mustered up a grin, unsurprised to realise a finger was in his mouth again. He’d been stimming since the moment he could move his limbs, and his sessions were a place he felt free to do that without fear of ridicule. “We have.”

“Then let’s talk about the thoughts that have been bothering you, and challenge them a little bit.”

“We’re gonna go over our session time-limit…”

“I’m the one on the clock, Prompto. Not you.”

“If you’re sure…”

 

* * *

 

 

“I missed you yesterday, man.” Noctis said, elbowing Prompto playfully. The pair were strolling to their final class of the day.

Noctis had only arrived at lunch, having had to attend a set of diplomatic meetings that morning. He’d been complaining about them ever since he and Prompto had met up in the car-park, and was only now acknowledging the gap Prompto had left in their usual arcade schedule yesterday. Prompto’s appointments were usually late on Wednesday’s, but his therapist had had an earlier opening, and, feeling a little stressed, he’d decided to take it.

Of course Noctis was dejected he’d had to miss their usual gaming session. He’d questioned Prompto about it, but the blond had waved him off, saying the shelter had needed him for an extra shift. ‘ _Urgent business_ , _there’s an outbreak of canine parvovirus.’_

Noctis, bless his heart, had offered to come along and help, but after Prompto insisting he look up the illness on the internet (it _really_ wasn’t pretty) he’d decided it would be best if Prompto went alone. His Majesty may have loved animals, and done his fair share of community service with them, but he was always separated from the grosser aspects. Nobody wanted the prince around, well…

Prompto smiled in response, his heart swelling with happiness.

It never failed to make him beam when Noctis said things like that. Genuinely beam, as well, not the ever-present smile he’d learned to keep pasted on his face. Expression had never came naturally to him, but after practicing changing his face in response to conversations, it was becoming simpler.

It made him laugh, when Noctis told him (“You’re always smiling, Prompto. How do you do it?”)

(“I guess I’m just a smiley guy.”)

Around his friends, perhaps, but it had never been as natural as he’d made it out to be.

“Same, dude.” Prompto returned, sending another elbow back. He’d used to feel uncomfortable about contact with other people, but Noctis was an exception. “Did you finally beat that shooting game?”

Noctis snorted. “You know I can’t do that without you. Your aim is what Iggy would call ‘ _impeccable_ ’.” The prince’s attempt to mimic the advisor’s voice was hilarious, and Prompto laughed, loud enough to have people in the hallway shoot him irked looks.

He’d never been the most popular kid. Overweight and autistic. It wasn’t exactly a friend-winning combination. Even after losing the weight and making himself more approachable, his luck hadn’t improved.

Because now he was the spazzy autistic kid who’d managed to befriend a _future king._

Others had tried, yet Noctis had still chosen **_him._**

It annoyed many people, and they took out their wounded pride on Prompto when they could.

And Prompto took it, because he wasn’t about to be the coward that ran to Noctis. He could handle his own problems, he’d been doing it **_his whole life_** , as a matter of fact.

And he wasn’t about to give up. His friendship with Noctis was one of the only things that kept him going. No matter the rumours or intimidation, he **_would not give up._**

“We can go after school today, if you don’t have any royal duties…” Prompto suggested, still a little unsure despite Noctis _nearly always_ -

“Hell yeah! Then afterwards you can come to my place. Ignis said he’d make pizza…”

Pizza. Prompto had always been picky about pizza. There was so much that could differ textually, and the different toppings only made matters more difficult. Taste-wise, he’d always enjoyed spice. Without it, food tasted bland and-

“Are you seriously hungry enough to eat your fingers?” Noctis’s voice is amused, but Prompto flushes crimson, tucking his hands into his uniform slacks. “Hey, don’t sweat it,” He went on. “You never outgrew the finger sucking. I’ve seen you do it when you zone out…”

“Well, that’s embarrassing.” Prompto stated aloud, thoroughly abashed.

“You think _that’s_ embarrassing?” Noctis was in disbelief. “You were less embarrassed when you walked around with a dick drawn on your forehead all day.”

“I still need to get Gladio back for that…”

“You spoke with my dad. _The king_.”

“Iggy lectured Gladio for hours. Maybe that was payback enough?”

Prompto’s voice is deliberately light, and Noctis wraps an arm around his neck, knuckling his hair roughly. The blond shrieked, trying to push the prince off. “Asshole! My hair!”

“ _You are so full of shit_.” Noctis said, voice rich with humour. “As if you weren’t embarrassed.”

“Okay! I was!” Prompto squealed, and the prince released him. He immediately ran his hands through his blond locks, trying to tame them. He could feel them sticking up all over the place…

“No, don’t,” Noctis swatted his hands away. “It looks good that way.”

“Right.” Prompto was sceptical.

“Hey,” Noctis pouted. “Would I lie to you?”

Trust. Prompto trusted Noctis wholly and completely.

It was almost a little frightening.

Prompto let his hands fall, and ignored how self-conscious he felt. If Noct said-

The bell suddenly tolled, and the two teenagers exchanged wide-eyed looks, before taking off in a run in the direction of their classroom. The teachers may have been too afraid to remonstrate the prince, but Prompto was not exempt from receiving detention.

And if Prompto got detention, they couldn’t go to the arcade that afternoon. Or eat pizza together.

They were both fast, but Prompto’s daily running outstripped Noctis’s occasional sprint training, and he got to the classroom mere seconds before the prince, sliding into his seat and ducking his head, as his teacher turned to him with an open mouth, likely to scold him.

But then Noctis entered the room, chest heaving, and his mouth slid shut. Scolding Prompto and ignoring Noctis would be hypocritical, and the teacher couldn’t be openly hypocritical before a classroom of teenagers who were peering at him expectantly. “First warning, Mr Argentum.” He intoned instead, and Prompto kept his head down, pulling out his books and pencil case.  

He felt the attention of the room on him keenly, and clenched his fists to prevent from twitching. The silence felt deafening, and he heaved a sigh of relief when the teacher launched into his lesson, taking the remains of attendance. Noctis took his seat just in front of him. They’d used to share a desk, but had been separated due to becoming distracted in each other’s presence.

The prince leaned back, and sent his friend an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry.’ He mouthed.

Prompto returned the smile, albeit more tensely. He could still feel the eyes, and the disapproval, and _he needed-_

“We will watch the film today. Keep in mind, I expect you all to have read the book as well. You’ll be tested on both.” The teacher switched on the interactive board, selecting the movie to play. When he noticed the relaxed stance of some of the students, he frowned. “This isn’t a lesson you can slack off in. Take notes, because you’ll need them.”

A few of the more gutsy students groaned, but most just picked up pens, preparing for a period of jotting down notes. A lot of students preferred the ease of this type of lesson, but for Prompto…

It was a nightmare.

Note-taking was tedious, but it was worse when there was nothing else to focus on. No droning teacher, no answering questions, no quizzes, no opportunities to collaborate with Noctis on a project…

He liked television, don’t get him wrong, but he liked it when he could stim, or even _eat._ Anything but sitting quiet and motionless in a room where he was expected to be silent and still…

It was a nightmare for him, really. Not his worst nightmare, but a nightmare nonetheless.

And he was _near the front_ of the classroom, in the center! He couldn’t stim, he’d be noticed and the teacher would yell at him and-

Prompto forced himself to take a deep breath, and resolved to focus on note-taking. He could do that. The teacher said it was _important,_ and he wanted to surpass his B average…

Only the film was boring enough to make even the most diligent students lose focus, and an adaption far inferior to the novel, which Prompto was surprised to realise he liked better.

Tested on both? _Bullshit._ There wasn’t enough substance in this weak movie to be added into the test. The teacher probably just wanted a lazy afternoon. It happened, from time to time.

He tried taking quotes, but even the dialogue was hollow, mostly just slightly altered lines from the book. Eventually he was the only person in the class even trying, everyone else was idly doodling or staring at the screen glassy eyed…

Noctis, predictably, had his head buried in his arms, taking an impromptu nap.

Covertly, Prompto shook his hand, trying to release some of the built-up-

“Sit still, Argentum!” The teacher snapped, glaring at him through his spectacles.

He froze, but not without considerable effort.

It appeared the teacher was observing him closely. He was probably still pissed off about him coming late to class…

A few people snickered, and Noctis jerked up, turning around to assess his friend. The prince knew Prompto had difficulties sitting still, although he didn’t understand the full extent…

“S-sorry sir.” He stuttered.

“Look at me when you apologise, boy!”

_Ugh._ Eye-contact. Why did people always insist on needing it?

Prompto looked to the right of the man’s face, eyes focusing on the flickering screen behind. It must have been close enough, because the man didn’t berate him for that again.

Instead, he gave him an order that was impossible to follow “First you have the audacity to arrive late for class, and now you have the nerve to not focus! If you don’t sit still and look at that screen, I’ll give you detention for a whole week!” He jabbed a finger at him threateningly, and Prompto flinched.

He didn’t have to see Noctis to know the prince was angry with his treatment, he could practically feel the displeasure rolling off of him. Luckily though, the prince had been trained to hold his temper, and refrain from making scenes. He wouldn’t interfere, even if his tongue was burning with the shout he wanted to give. Ignis would kill him, and the damage to his princely reputation would be bad.

“Y-Yes sir.” Prompto practically squeaked.

More snickers.

He had to obey. Detention for a whole week was a harsh penalty, and if he did receive it, he wouldn’t be able to attend work, let alone his therapy session or hang out with Noctis. It would disrupt his life horribly, and Prompto didn’t deal well with disruption of this variety…

_I can do this._

Positive self-talk, it was something he’d been urged to practice when he could.

_I just need to sit, and watch. It’s not that hard._

In theory.

But if even a neurotypical person had trouble sitting completely still, what chance did an autistic mess like Prompto have? His movements may have become less overt over time, but he still required stimulation. If he didn’t get it, then-

His whole form felt controlled.

And not in a way he usually congratulated himself for.

Holding a still position and not fidgeting was practically _torture._ It was terrible, and he could feel a wave of anxiety rising rapidly in him. He needed to shift, he needed to move, he needed to look away from the screen that seemed to be becoming blurred and-

_But he couldn’t get detention._ He couldn’t afford it, literally. He needed to work to earn money for rent, for groceries, for his sessions, and when he hung out with Noctis-

He could skip the detentions, but then they’d have to call his parents, and _that_ was a recipe for disaster…

He could be suspended, or expelled, or they could put him in the remediation classes and he’d be deemed too stupid to spend time with the future king of Lucis, and Noct might laugh or reject him and he’d go back to being alone all of the time with nobody-

One thing was for absolute certain, **_he wanted out._**

When confronted with a severely distressing situation, many people would opt to simply leave it, especially if they have no method of confronting it in a confident and competent manner.

Prompto did not feel confident, or competent. This was not something that he’d practiced in his sessions, as his therapist had never discouraged him from stimming. So long as it wasn’t overly disruptive or violent, it was fine, because it helped him concentrate and-

It was so hard. **_He couldn’t do it_** , but he had to, he **_wanted_** -

He wanted to leave, but he was **_trapped._**

“Argentum, are you-“

**_ Out.  _ **

**_He wanted out. Now. _ **

Prompto bangs his head so hard on the table that it jolts, shuddering on its metal fixtures. He doesn’t feel the pain, which isn’t very surprising.

Apparently he’d used to do this a lot as a baby and toddler. It was one of the things his parents had actually actively tried to ‘cure’ him of.

On some level, it’s comforting, on another, it’s self-injurious, all in all though, his brain isn’t currently receptive enough to realise why he’s resorting to it.

He does it again.

And again.

And again-

A hand grabs his shoulder, but he doesn’t stop. He’s stuck in repetition, and he _ ~~can’t won’t doesn’t know how what the fuck~~_ doesn’t stop.

He can’t focus on the voices around him, he doesn’t comprehend any movement.

He just keeps banging his head on the table, until he’s suddenly jerked backwards, arms restrained behind the back of his chair. He jerks against the hold, and when he can’t bang his head anymore, he _rocks_ , his weight making the chair tilt back and forth precariously. Whoever’s holding his arms follows the movement, struggling not to let go.

His mom has a rocking chair at home, from when she used to nurse him as a baby ~~before the trouble began~~. When he’s home alone, he likes to sit in it. The motion has always been comforting, and it can help him both focus and relax…

His thinking isn’t coherent, but his body seems to be reacting nonetheless.

What will come as the result of this meltdown? Prompto isn’t aware enough to contemplate.

He hopes he never is. All of his hard work has gone to waste.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

The teacher -

Noctis can’t remember the teacher’s name.

He’s constantly surrounded by tutors, and diplomats, and numerous other people employed under the crown, and Ignis expects him to keep track of them all. Remembering all of the names of his teachers in addition to that has become practically impossible. It’s an impractical request.

Whoever he is, he’s giving Prompto a hard time.

This, much to his distaste, isn’t as uncommon as he would like. Prompto has always been an easy target, and the blond hated conflict so much that he never objected when he was unfairly targeted. Perhaps his friendship with the prince expanded the target on his back, but he never complained, and it was one of the things Noctis loved about him. There was no resentment, no thinly veiled accusations that it was the prince’s fault, even when it sometimes was.

It makes his blood boil to see his best friend singled out, when he himself is guilty of committing the same infractions. He’s late, and maybe he doesn’t fidget as much as Prompto (the guy never seems to sit still, after all) but he slumps forward, and he naps, and he’s so blatantly disinterested with the lessons that it’s almost insulting.

It’s not that Noctis _wants_ to be rude, but he knows most of the lesson content already. The intense tutoring he attended made sure of that. The prince, after all, could hardly be outshone in any of his classes. If he was going to attend a regular school, he needed to prove himself, and get the best grades possible.

And what’s the point of forcing attentiveness when he could be catching up on the sleep Gladiolus’s early wake-up calls were depriving him of? Between the shield’s gruelling training and Ignis’s constant schedule of obligatory events to attend, he was exhausted.

Besides, who were the teachers to complain? He made them look good by scoring the highest every year, and the school had only become even more prestigious (something never considered possible, wealthy as it was) since his enrolment. They had major bragging rights, and no reason to rock the metaphorical boat.

Still, Noctis wished they did, when his friend is being chewed out for something he himself has also done. The unfairness burns him up, but he can hardly protest.

The rocking the boat thing? That went both ways. He was a prince, and a prince didn’t act outside of a mild and gentlemanly manner. It invited bad publicity, and scrutiny.

He couldn’t shame his father, or his ancestors.

So when Prompto was bullied by some of the teachers, he had to bear it. It was never anything too bad to report, but it was still saddening to witness.

Prompto was so earnest, and naïve about a lot of things. Noctis thought it was endearing ~~and cute, not that he’d ever admit that~~ but some people tried to take advantage of that, and tease the blond. Such occurrences were rare now that he and the commoner were ‘ _practically joined at the hip_ ’ as he’d heard his father say…

But he wanted to protect Prompto.

Prompto was hardly a damsel in distress ~~and he’d be mortified if he knew how Noctis felt, since he was so fiercely independent~~ but there was just _something_ about him…

The fact that he couldn’t defend his friend was frustrating.

Especially today, when the asshole teacher (he tries to insist his students call him ‘professor’, but no one really takes notice) is picking on him. He’s trying to humiliate Prompto, or incite an angry reaction, to justify his actions.

The snickers Noctis hears as the teacher does it makes him want to scream.

(“Herd mentality.”) Ignis had explained this phenomena once, when Noctis had been younger and questioned why ‘some kids picked on others.’ He’d been genuinely flabbergasted, the sheltered brat he was. He’d never experienced such a thing, let alone witnessed it. (“It’s where people are influenced by their peers to act in a certain manner.”) Ignis probably could have been more articulate in his explanation, but he’d been explaining to a kid who still hadn’t realised that people could be _mean for no reason._

Prompto naïve? Noctis took it back. His best friend had been the victim of such a mentality ever since he was old enough to _walk._ His resilience was impressive…

Even now, Prompto is obedient when many others would have responded aggressively. Sure, some would have found this pathetic, but Noctis is grimly approving.

Detention for a week was an awful threat, especially when the blond had work ~~and hanging out with Noctis, Noctis hated missing out he was kind of like a finicky feline in that manner~~ and other matters to attend to.

He didn’t have parents to rely on, and it was _a travesty._

Noctis himself had referred to it as ‘ _fucking bullshit’_ but Ignis had (as always) been a little more eloquent. It was horrible to see someone with no support network, _especially a kid like Prompto_ …

That was Gladiolus, by the way.

Why did they always have to invade his thoughts? It was bad enough the prince had to deal with their insufferable presences every single day…

THUMP

The sound makes him jump in surprise, and his eyes flick around the classroom in search of potential threats, his training imbued. It takes him a moment to realise the noise came from behind him, and he swivels his neck, preparing to reach into the armiger if he sees something suspicious…

Overdramatic? Perhaps. But he was a prince, and a prince always had to be prepared to protect both himself, and his subjects. Why else did he attend training every goddamned morning? Gladio would be proud of his attention to detail…

~~Starting at the sound of someone dropping their food tray on the ground wasn’t ideal, but hey, ** _prince._** ~~

They aren’t in the cafeteria, so it isn’t a food tray. It isn’t even a heavy book or backpack, as he first presumed.

It’s Prompto.

His head is down, spiky blond strands ~~gods that suits him~~ sticking up wildly, and the entire room is gaping at him in surprise.

When Prompto bangs his head on the desk, Noctis initially thinks it’s a joke. A melodramatic way of expressing that he’s exasperated with the workload their teacher is assigning.

He kind of grins, a little unsure, waiting for his best friend to look up. _‘Dramatic much?’_ He intends to say. Prompto will laugh, in that self-deprecating way of his, and then the teacher will probably shake his head, debating whether to make a fuss about Prompto’s actions, or just let the matter go. He’ll probably do the latter, if Noctis glares at him intensely enough.

But then Prompto rises up, and bangs it again, and _again_ , and Noctis isn’t so sure anymore.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if I should continue this, but I have a vague idea of what direction I'd take this if I do. 
> 
> Please review if you would like, tell me if I should continue, and if I DO...
> 
> Pairings? Or no pairings?
> 
> I'm happy to keep this pairing-free, but if there's a demand, I can add some Promptis or Gladio x Ignis. Or this could be pre-slash...
> 
> Either way, if I keep writing this, it will be Prompto centered, and focus on his life with ASD as well as his relationships with the other bros. 
> 
> I hope any readers derived some form of pleasure from reading this, and also hope that you don't think my autistic Prompto is too far-fetched :)
> 
> PS: Head-banging is a behavior that is actually kind of common in babies and toddlers, although most grow out of it by the time they reach the age of four. People with an autism spectrum disorder can head-bang for many reasons, although the behavior is usually triggered. If you want to know more, I encourage doing some light research. I will probably elaborate further in this story if I continue, though :)


	2. Allistic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Definition of allistic: Not autistic
> 
> Noctis is forced to witness a new side of his friend, and adapt. He must also re-evaluate what he thinks he knows about Prompto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a new chapter, in Noctis's POV since I think it was needed. It's pretty short, but I already have the next one finished. I just need to edit and post it :)

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

The whole room is silent, looks of varying states of shock and surprise across their faces. Even the rowdiest students are at a loss, looking to the teacher expectantly. The man had begun speaking mere moments ago, but his sentence remained unfinished.

He was as stunned as his pupils, jaw slack and mouth open. His lips twitched a few times, brow furrowing, but ultimately he was too flabbergasted to act.

Noctis was just as confused, but he didn’t hesitate. Much of his training had focused on learning _not_ to hesitate, treading the fine line of trusting your instincts and reacting in an appropriate manner. Regardless, inaction was heavily frowned upon, and Gladiolus regularly scolded Noctis for being too slow.

He wouldn’t be too slow here.

He didn’t want to be, especially since Prompto had already banged his head three times.

Each time his delicate skull impacts with the desk Noctis’s nausea increases, his heart lurching in his chest in a jolting movement. He hears it in his ears, even over the sound of the thumping. It’s _horrible._

Momentarily, he considers Warping to Prompto. It would be a faster way to reach him-

(“You mustn’t demonstrate your warping capabilities around civilians, Highness. It invites scrutiny, and we don’t want anyone who is unauthorised familiar with your skills.”)

-but Ignis had had a point when he’d told Noctis that. If the teacher was incompetent with shock now, he certainly wouldn’t be capable of reacting after Noctis tossed a blade in his classroom…

By the time the prince has leapt from his seat, and joined Prompto at his desk, the blond has brought his head down on the desk one more time. It’s when he draws back, nearly so fast that Noctis misses an opportunity –

_Is he having a seizure? Why does he keep doing it?_

_-_ that the prince seizes him, pulling the blond’s arms behind his back. It feels fundamentally wrong to be restraining his best friend, but when Prompto jerks against his hold, Noctis can only tighten his grasp. For such a scrawny guy, Prompto was stronger than he looked.

Noctis nearly let go when Prompto started _rocking,_ his heels slipping on the tiles as he tried to maintain his hold. “Prompto,” The prince started, unsurely. “Dude, come on…” It’s a weak address. He knows he should be more comforting, more confident, but-

_What in the ever loving **fuck** is going on?_

Noctis feels as if he’s in a strange alternate universe. Prompto, for all his hyperactivity, had always shied away from being overtly disruptive in class, preferring to blend in and focus on the classwork. He was a surprisingly diligent student, something that had served to impress Ignis when the advisor had been scrutinising his ‘eligibility’ to befriend the prince.

Prompto wanted to be his equal, and he spared no effort in achieving that goal, even when Noctis told him continuously that he didn’t need another ‘perfect’ best friend. He already had Gladiolus and Ignis to feel insecure and lacking around…

Prompto made him feel _normal,_ and Noctis never wanted to lose that feeling. All his life he’d experienced preferential treatment from commoners and civilians, most of them always tripping over themselves to compliment and praise him. They thought it would help get into the prince’s good graces, when in reality, it only tired him out.

He loved having a friend who wasn’t afraid to trash talk him, or beat his ass in video games. A friend who saw him as a _person first_ and a _prince_ second. Prompto wasn’t enamoured by status, or seduced by the idea of high-class living. He was just himself.

_Or is he?_

What Noctis was seeing now, was entirely alien and uncharacteristic. It _scared_ him.

He was at a loss. He hadn’t undergone any medical training, outside of simple first-aid. It was always assumed he could craft a Healacast if the need ever arose, and as a prince, he was never lacking any potions…

But what could a potion do for _this?_ Prompto didn’t seem to be physically injured (yet) so using it would be a waste of a perfectly good product. He may have been a prince, but he knew to use potions sparingly. There were lots of people outside of Insomnia that didn’t have access to potions, and wasting any now would be disrespectful to their struggles…

Basically, the prince felt helpless.

_What kind of prince am I, if I can’t even protect my best friend?_

Seemingly triggered by the prince’s response, and the other student’s sudden whispering, the teacher strode forward, slamming a hand down on the side of Prompto’s chair, keeping it immobile. He looked grimly satisfied with his decision, until Prompto bit so hard into his own lip that it began to bleed rivulets of blood, dripping down his chin and onto his second-hand uniform. He gnawed on the ripped skin, seemingly unconcerned by the stinging pain.

One girl screamed at the sight, clearly easily spooked, another let out a soft “ _Ew._ ”

Noctis felt defensive of his friend, even if Prompto was suddenly appearing rather grotesque. Reminiscent to a zombie from one of their favourite video games, consuming flesh…

“Class is dismissed!” The teacher finally had the sense to bark. “Everyone out!”

Most of the students followed his order immediately, glad to be released from the lesson early, but a few others hesitated, observing the scene with interest. One even had the nerve to pull out their phone, evidently trying to record the scene to show his classmates later.

“Put that down, boy!” The teacher snapped, and the student flinched, lowering the device immediately.

Noctis was relieved. He hadn’t wanted to command his peer, but would have if he kept trying to record. Prompto deserved more respect than to be filmed in such a compromising state. It would only fuel rumours and increase the ridicule Prompto already experienced when the prince wasn’t around. Perhaps the educator wasn’t as hapless as Noctis had initially assumed. He seemed to have Prompto’s best interests at heart…

“Every member of staff here signed a confidentiality agreement with the crown! The prince isn’t to be photographed, or filmed, in any capacity! We could be sued for every single gil we own, and _you_ wouldn’t be exempt, or your family!”

Noctis barely contained the bitter scoff that nearly ripped from his throat.

_Of course._

It always had to be about him and his royal status, even when another individual was in a genuine crisis. It was like Prompto didn’t even _exist_. Or worse, like _he did_ , but nobody seemed to care even the littlest bit about his welfare regardless.

It was utterly depressing.

But Noctis couldn’t allow himself to wallow and stew in disappointment. He had a best friend to help, and he **wasn’t** going to fail him.

_Somebody_ had to step up for Prompto, so it may as well be him. He knew the most about the blond, and spent more time with him than even his own parents.

There was nothing Noctis didn’t know about Prompto, and vice versa.

Unfortunately, this assumption was destined to be challenged over the coming weeks.

Noctis waited until the remaining straggling students had left the classroom, before speaking authoritatively to the teacher. “I want you to call my emergency contact.”

The blood leeched from the man’s face at this. “Which one?” He gulped, pale and quivering. “You have seven, Your Highness.”

It was common for Regis to be unable to use his phone, so the king had ordered the school to keep six alternate phone numbers in the event he (or his other staff) were indisposed. It happened more than the man would have liked, which was the reason for the excessive amount of contacts.

Clarus, Cor, Ignis, Gladiolus, Dustin and Monica, respectively. There was no frugality when precaution was concerned, especially when so many of the contacts were consistently working with one another. It was an accurate statement to say that if the king were preoccupied, his shield and other retainers likely would be as well.

Naturally Ignis, as Noctis’s defunct guardian in such circumstances, was the individual most likely to respond to a call. The advisor seldom let his phone ring more than once, even when it was just the prince calling from his apartment. He was dedicated to his role, and never slacked off. It was admirable, although more than a little irritating sometimes, when Noctis just wanted the other male to let him be so he could have a break.

“Ignis Scientia.” Noctis said, struggling to maintain his hold.

The teacher relaxed somewhat at the name, clearly deeming the advisor less intimidating than the king of Lucis.

If Noctis were in a lighter mood, he would have grinned at that. Both his father and Ignis were faultlessly polite, but the advisor was considerably steelier, and his tongue was sharper. He wasn’t afraid to use it, either, when the occasion warranted it. Watching Ignis obliterate someone verbally had always been a high point of his childhood, _especially_ when that somebody was Gladiolus, as it so often was. The shield, for all his hot temper, was usually rendered speechless when the advisor turned on him in displeasure.  

“At once, Your Highness. Will you be alright with him? I can always call another teacher to help restrain him. We wouldn’t want this _problem student_ harming you…”

The palpable distaste in the teacher’s voice was enough to make Noctis send a glare at him.

“Prompto _isn’t_ a problem student.”

“Y-Your H-Highness-“

“Instead of passing judgement, you should be calling Ignis _now._ I look forward to you explaining to him why your first instinct wasn’t to call an ambulance, like student safety protocol dictates.” He hates how much he sounds like the advisor in that moment, but he relishes the look of fear that flashes over the teacher’s face in response to his scathing statement.

“Would you like me to call an ambulance now?”

“No.” Noctis denied. “If he needs medical attention, I’ll escort him personally to the citadel hospital. Now call him, or do you need me to send out a panic text?”

The teacher nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to return to his desk, picking up the school phone and selecting the number for Noctis’s emergency contacts. As the prince expected, Ignis picked up before the first ring even finished. 

From his position, he couldn’t hear the advisor, but the teacher spluttered out a reasonable enough explanation, putting down the phone when the advisor hung up a few brief moments later. “I’ve been instructed to lead him here.” The teacher explained. “Your Highness, do you mind terribly-“

“ ** _Leave_**.” Noctis said, shortly.

_It’s not like you’re doing much, anyways._

Noctis waited until the classroom door swung shut before trying to speak with Prompto again. His friend was still attempting to rock back and forth, the movement jerky due to his restrained arms. He could feel the small muscles Prompto had straining under his grasp, and the prince was wary of spraining or over-exerting them. The position he was in wasn’t ideal, but he couldn’t just release Prompto and let him keep banging his head…

Moving him from the chair wasn’t an option, either. It would only give Prompto the opportunity to hit his head on something else, _like the floor,_ and Noctis could barely contain Prompto as he was…

Problem solving.

Finding solutions to problems was something a prince was meant to excel at, but this problem was unlike anything Noctis had ever experienced before.

Logically, he had to assume the head-banging was out of Prompto’s control, as he couldn’t conjure up any rational reason why his best friend would harm himself in such a fashion. It went against Prompto’s _‘fly under the radar’_ approach to his schooling.

Which meant there was an underlying problem that needed to be addressed at a later time.

Presently though, he needed to treat this unexpected (and unexplained) bout of head-banging like one would a seizure or other non-preventable episode, and merely ride it out, providing a comfortable and safe atmosphere to the best of his abilities until it ended.

Until that moment came, Noctis needed to be level-headed and controlled.

_If Iggy and Gladio can do it for me, surely I can do it for my best friend…_

“Prompto,” He ventured, voice clear. “Can you hear me?”

When Prompto didn’t respond, verbally or non-verbally, he moved on.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but…” He trailed off momentarily, unsure of what to say. If Prompto was still comprehending his words, he wanted to comfort his best friend, but what could he say that would make the blond feel better right now?

Noctis was so accustomed to being the one being comforted…

_What would I want to hear, in his situation?_

“I’m here for you, and Iggy is going to be here soon, as well. Whatever this is, we’ll work it out together. Just…” His cheeks flushed, and he looked about the classroom in paranoia, despite knowing there was no one present to eavesdrop. “Know _I love you_ , okay? You’re my best friend and nothing is **_ever gonna change that_**. You’re stuck with me.”

Was he being overdramatic? Perhaps.

But Noctis had never seen Prompto behave in such a manner, and it was simultaneously startling and incredibly frightening.

And the sickening sound his head had made when he’d banged it on the hard surface of that desk hadn’t helped sooth his worry…

The hard surface of the desk…

Noctis blinked in sudden understanding, and clumsily began shouldering out of his blazer. It was a thick fabric, and if he folded it together right…

Paired with Prompto’s own (holier) blazer, which had been stuffed inside his backpack hastily earlier that day…

It would make a reasonable barrier between his head and the desk.

Spurred on by his sudden idea, Noctis released one of Prompto’s arms, tightening the other around his chest opposed to his arms.

The prince held him back with no small amount of effort, using his free limb to riffle in Prompto’s unzipped (for once he was glad for Prompto’s sloppiness) backpack until he finally grabbed his friend’s jacket.

A little clumsily, he balled the two together into a large, padded heap, before sliding the makeshift pillow onto the table, right where Prompto had been banging his head.

_I can’t keep restraining him. At least this way he’ll be saving himself the headache. Maybe he’ll tire out soon…_

“I made a pillow for you, buddy.” Noctis told him as he let him go, a little awkwardly. “So you don’t give yourself a concussion. We wouldn’t be able to play video games if that happened…”

**_Stupid._ ** _As if he’ll be well enough to play video games after this…_

When it came to comfort, Noctis was a little inexperienced. Gladiolus and Ignis were so well-put together, rarely losing their composure when it came to sadness. And if they did, they’d always made a point never to implicate him. His protectors, even when it came to their own personal emotions. To be honest, he had always been a little guiltily relieved by this.

Now he felt selfish, and hapless. He had no idea how to properly comfort his best friend.

He could only watch and listen as Prompto’s head made contact with the fabric, a dulled, muffled thump echoing in the eerily empty classroom. He’d never stayed behind long enough after class to see one of the rooms so quiet and vacant.

It resembled something from a horror game, Prompto being the possessed entity in the equation…

If Noctis hadn’t learned any better from his lore lessons, he might have believed Prompto was possessed by an unrested spirit. That would be a semi logical explanation for his sudden outburst of self-harm.

Noctis pondered his next action, wondering what he could do to make Prompto feel supported in their current situation. What would bring him relief and solace?

What did his dad do when he was a little kid, hurting from his injury? Or when Ignis comforted him from nightmares?

He could hardly embrace Prompto. That would only put the pair of them at risk of injury…

_Don’t overthink it,_ Noctis’s inner coach sounds rather alike Gladio when they’re sparring. _Stay calm, and don’t lose your cool. Focus._

Noctis took a deep, steeling breath, and observed his friend more closely. The blond seemed to be less tense now that he was banging his head, although the fervour in which he performed the action hadn’t decreased any. His blond locks still stuck up in the haphazard mess Noctis had left it in earlier that day, and his hands…

His hands.

_That’s it!_

His dad and Ignis had often held his hand when he was a child. Clarus had as well, whenever he and Gladiolus had been together. It had been a precautionary measure in his earlier years ~~and sometimes his later when he crossed the road daydreaming and nearly got hit by a vehicle~~ and also a method of comfort. It wasn’t stifling, or overly invasive, and it seemed an appropriate way to show Prompto that he was present, and that he wasn’t leaving no matter how ~~freaking weird~~ _off_ he was acting.

“I’m here.” Noctis imparted, softly. He leaned down at Prompto’s side, and grasped one of his twitching hands, squeezing gently. “And I’m not going anywhere.” He was slightly disappointed when Prompto didn’t muster a response, but sighed in relief when the blond returned the squeeze, albeit more tightly.

Prompto _was_ present, and comprehending enough to reciprocate Noctis’s affection.

It was a good, albeit puzzling, sign.

_Just what the hell is going on with you, Prompto?_

And why did Noctis get the impression that he was missing something _vital?_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Ignis arrives!
> 
> Thank you for all of your kind reviews. I didn't think anyone would be interested in this type of story, but I'm really happy some of you are. It really touched me :)
> 
> If I keep continuing, I plan to write autistic Prompto as realistically as I can manage. Which means it may not always be pretty, and functional. The chocobros will be there, although they'll probably be going through their own struggles :)
> 
> Please tell me if you liked this chapter, and I hope you're all having a good day/night wherever you are :D
> 
> PS: I haven't planned heaps far ahead yet, but Promptis MAY be a thing. If it is, it won't happen immediately though.


	3. Pragmatic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Definition of pragmatic: Dealing with things sensibly and realistically
> 
> Ignis must confront the reality that he can't be perpetually prepared for everything, no matter how hard he tries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Sorry this is a little late but I re-edited it quite a few times because it didn’t seem right to me the first time I finished it. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. Also, I’m sorry that I haven’t replied to any of your comments so far. I’m really shy, so I was nervous to, but I’ll start doing so from now on, IF that’s what any of you want. Please feel free to tell me if you don’t want a reply if you do comment, as I don't want to be annoying :) 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Ignis first met Prompto, his initial impression was that the blond was going to be trouble.

How? Even one as perpetually prepared as him wasn’t exactly certain.

Noctis, usually so refrained around his peers, introduced him with a sense of keen fondness, despite the short amount of time they had known one another. It was as if the prince was enamoured, grinning goofily at the boy’s jokes, and regularly attempting to skip his lessons at the citadel. There was a new casualness and carefreeness to him that had been absent before, and if Ignis were being perfectly honest with himself ~~he tried not to be, at times, as an advisor had to be flawless~~ he had been a little jealous.

Up until that point, he had been the closest thing the prince had to a best friend. He’d grown accustomed to occasionally indulging Noctis in playing a video game, or escorting him (usually with Gladiolus present as well) to a movie. ~~That was always a major security inconvenience.~~

He, as one of the most present figures in Noctis’s life, had received most of the prince’s attention. On some level it was a burden ~~Ignis was young himself~~ but on another, it was something for him to rely on. A routine. A schedule.

And Ignis had never liked fluctuations in his schedules, even if he’d learned to adapt to them accordingly in his role as the prince’s advisor.  

Prompto was a big adaption.

The commoner was… ** _unique._**

It was the kindest word that could be used, and Ignis, though confessedly cold in many environments, had never been one to be unduly unkind to anyone.

 _Perhaps,_ he had eventually concluded, _that was why Noctis liked Prompto so much._

If anyone told Ignis he would grow to care for Prompto himself, prior to socialising with the boy, he would have been doubtful. He hadn’t thought it possible, nor had he really wanted to try opening up to someone else. His network was close-knit, and he preferred it that way. It was easier to manage. He already had enough to worry about without another teenager complicating his life…

Yet Prompto didn’t.

He didn’t complicate Ignis’s life at all.

He was faultlessly polite, considerate, and showed a high standard of empathy. He and the blond had little in common, but Prompto spared no effort in trying to understand him, and help him with small household tasks.  

In fact, Ignis would wager Prompto had offered to help tidy up after meals more _in a year_ than Noctis had his whole life. ~~Which wasn’t really the prince’s fault, he was accustomed to being waited on.~~

This may, in part, have been due to the blond’s difficulty with slowing down, and the work ethic he abided by to help keep his head above crippling debt. ~~~~

Ignis had tried very hard to find a problem with Prompto when they first met. He’d scrutinised him for every flaw, and investigated his private life relentlessly. He _wanted_ to find a reason Noctis couldn’t keep spending time with him, desperately, because he was resistant to any unauthorised changes.

But then, inevitably, Ignis had spent time with Prompto himself, and his charms had even infiltrated the advisor’s prickly demeanour.

What he discovered eventually (after a frustrating period of trying to access his records, the blond’s parents had been practically _unreachable,_ and even the prince’s advisor couldn’t stray from protocol) had been nothing of true note.

Prompto wasn’t a threat.

He was just a lonely boy, left to his own devices too frequently.

It was no wonder he’d latched onto Noctis so readily. It wasn’t as if he had anyone else.

In a strange way, Prompto and Noctis were a good match for one another.

And if Noctis was happy, and smiling genuinely for the first time _in a long time_ , who was Ignis to try and separate them? To ruin a mutually-beneficial friendship?

Besides, Prompto had a way of lighting up a whole room with his presence. His steady sense of humour (though commonly self-deprecating) was a wonderful accompaniment to their small party, and he never overstepped his boundaries, or complained when Noctis had to spend time attending to his royal duties.

Understanding.

And yet…

When he receives a call he would have been admittedly _ecstatic_ to receive a year or so ago, he only feels concern.

And his first concern which should _always be the prince, **without exception**_ , is overruled with worry for their blond friend instead. Prompto has become special to them all, and he is no exception. To hear what the educator is telling him…

(“Mr Argentum suddenly started convulsing on his desk.”)

Is terrifying. He can only hope Noctis has been able to handle the situation, as the teacher had seemed horribly unqualified to deal with it, despite it being in his job description. It does not inspire hope in the pupils of the school, for Ignis. A teacher unprepared for medical emergencies is not worth their salt, or _any_ other spice or condiment.

Ignis has a long list of them.

“…Mr Scientia?” The offending man’s voice is unsure, and Ignis realises he has gone quiet.

He’d already been en route to the school when he received the call. He was punctual, and always tended to arrive early. It kept the two boys from loitering around unsavoury sorts. ~~Anyone who wasn’t Prompto was considered an unsavoury sort by Ignis. It’s less to do with snobbery, than protectiveness.~~

“You say he was convulsing?” Ignis repeated the man’s earlier explanation, a light frown on his features as he checked his rear-view mirror. He found repetition was vital in these sorts of scenarios. People tended to be mistaken when they panicked, and the teacher, even over the phone, sounded frazzled.

“…Yes, I think so. It looked that way.”

“And you immediately dismissed your class?”

It wouldn’t do for Prompto to be gawked at by onlookers, like he was some freakish spectacle. The lad would likely be embarrassed, considering how hard he tried to remain anonymous in his classes…

Sometimes Ignis forgot that the cheery, chatty boy who spent so much time with them now was still an insecure, unconfident individual around others he was unfamiliar with. Prompto tried so hard to hide his true feelings of self-consciousness.

“Yes. I didn’t want any of them interfering with the restraining.”

Ignis blanched. “Pardon me?”

“Restraining.”

Ignis’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. He was using a wireless earpiece, as driving whilst holding a cell phone was against the law, and a sure fire way to get in trouble with the king. Regis was unwavering when it came to protecting pedestrians.

(“More people die from distracted driving in the city than from any other cause, including driving whilst under the influence of alcohol and drugs.”) The man had told him that, prior to having his first lesson with Cor. (“You need to focus behind the wheel, always.”)

“It is mandatory for all educators to have attained a First-Aid Certificate, is it not?”

“Yes.” The man definitely sounded hesitant now. “Mine is valid, if you’d like to check.”

“I know the guidelines are updated regularly, but if I recall, the seizure response component has not been altered in a few years. As a teacher at such a prestigious school, I would expect you, or _any_ of the prince’s other teachers to know the outlined emergency protocol for incidents such as seizures.”

“Yes.”

_What a foolish, pompous parrot._

Ignis thinned his lips in displeasure at the confident reply. “And you find restraint the best method of treating someone who is afflicted by a seizure?”

This, at least, gave the man pause. “Well, Prompto never really sits still, I thought he might lash out if-“

“Someone who is having a seizure may go rigid, or convulse. Restraining them can cause bruises, sprains, and even broken bones. It can also be dangerous to whoever is restraining the individual having the seizure. Which, in this circumstance, is His Highness. Am I correct in that assessment?”

“Y-Yes, but-“

“If either of those boys are injured because of your lack of forethought, you will be hearing from the crown’s lawyer _personally._ ” Ignis promised, voice severe.

“I-I-“

_I don’t have time to humour this buffoon._

“I will arrive presently. Please come to the carpark so as to guide me to the classroom.” Briskly, the advisor ended the call.

Ignis had already memorised the entire map of the school, for security purposes, but didn’t want to admit such a thing. Noctis would only groan and call him ‘ _overprotective_ ’ and he _was_ supposed to be encouraging independence in the other male.

He wasn’t a coddling mother, and he wouldn’t behave like one.

_I am a mature, well-polished man. I am above emotional displays. I **will not** work myself into a state. _

Still, he pushed down on the accelerator a little harder than usual, ignoring the horns that resounded as he seamlessly navigated through the traffic. He hadn’t undergone all of those driving lessons with Cor for nothing, and speeding was always excused in the face of a medical emergency, so long as you were competent enough not to cause any accidents or collisions.   

When he pulls into his designated parking spot (being a royal advisor had many perks, and a prime parking spot in the staff area was one of them) he can already see the teacher, fretfully pacing back and forth, and wringing his hands. Evidently, he’s petrified to face the advisor after their phone call.

It doesn’t bring Ignis any confidence.

He slides from the car in a smooth motion, locking it securely before striding to the teacher. The man straightens as he sees him approaching, adjusting his suit in a nervous manner. He holds out a hand to shake, but Ignis doesn’t have the time for such formalities.

 ~~Also he doesn’t want to shake hands with someone so idiotic, his stupidity may be contagious.~~  

Not when he has two of his friends depending on him.

Loath he is to be discourteous, Ignis does offer the man a curt nod. “Good afternoon. Please show me to your classroom, if you don’t mind.”

“O-of course!” The teacher spluttered, taken-aback with Ignis’s forwardness. He’s never spoken with the advisor personally, as the king managed to attend most of Noctis’s parent-teacher conferences, and other school-related events. “Right this way!” He sets off, at a slower pace than Ignis would have liked, but the advisor matches his steps, head held high as he travels the halls.

Even for an elite school, the surroundings seem unclean to Ignis. He’s meticulous, and his trained eye can detect the smallest of smudges on the floor, or the slightest scuff on the glinting lockers. It smells heavily of cleaning solution and a mixture of adolescent body odours.

Not pleasant.

Not for the first time, he’s glad his education was undergone privately. The whole schooling experience _did not_ appeal to him in the slightest.

“No loitering in the halls!” The teacher snaps, more than once, at any students milling about. Some appear to be his students, and roll their eyes in disbelief at his order. They’d been dismissed without further instruction, after all. It was hardly fair they be scolded now.

They swiftly relocate when they notice Ignis staring at them with sharp eyes, exchanging unnerved looks before taking off, whispering under their breath all the while.

The teacher shoots him a poorly concealed envious look, and they continue walking briskly.

The advisor succeeded where many teachers failed, despite their _no-nonsense_ best efforts. He could intimidate their students with barely more than a quirked eyebrow, and send them scurrying like little lost mice without even opening his mouth.

“This is it.” The teacher said, as they finally reached the classroom.

The door, to Ignis’s relief, was firmly shut. Witnesses always caused additional problems…

The teacher fumbles with the doorknob, but has it open after a moment. It takes all of Ignis’s self-restraint not to rudely push him aside in his haste to enter the room and assess the situation. His palms feel slightly clammy underneath his gloves, and he chides himself for his nerves. He was above such emotions. He _had_ to be immaculate.

He had to show King Regis and everyone else that he was capable and qualified, _especially_ some of the sceptical houses that looked down on him for his age.

_I may be young, but I’m intelligent. There’s no situation I can’t handle with a clear mind._

He’s prepared to see Prompto on the floor, perhaps in the _postictal state phase_. The teacher’s description of his behaviour was most reminiscent to the symptoms of a seizure, and he’s eager to have a doctor diagnose what sort the blond has suffered from. He wasn’t a medical professional, but he was aware of the differing classification types. He wondered if Noctis had the sense to time the duration of it…

And if he’d been thoughtless enough to _actually_ restrain him, like the teacher had said…

“Ignis!” Noctis called in relief, when he noticed the advisor’s presence. He was kneeling at Prompto’s side, clasping his hand so hard his knuckles had turned white. There was a tight expression on his face, but Ignis was impressed to note the prince hadn’t lost his composure.

~~And a little bit proud but nobody needed to know that.~~

“Highness.” Ignis nodded in greeting. He scanned Prompto’s body as he headed closer, surveying his state in a methodical perusal. He was mildly surprised to realise Prompto hadn’t slumped to the floor in his seizure, nor was his body hanging awkwardly from his chair. He was proportioned, arms down, head on the table. “Did you time the seizure?” He questioned, swiftly. “Anything longer than five minutes will require a trip to the emergency room, although I intend to schedule an appointment with our doctor regardless of the duration.”

“Whatever it was, it lasted longer than five minutes.” Noctis provided.

Ignis held back the undignified temptation to curse. “Did he lose consciousness at any point in time?” When Noctis shook his head, he pressed on “Has he had any seizures in the past?”

“No.” Ignis narrowed his eyes, and the raven haired male scoffed. “I told you _no_! I wouldn’t keep something like that from you or Gladio.”

“Even if uncontrolled epileptic fits would be cause for disqualification from the Crownsguard Training Program?”

“Prompto’s safety is more important than some stupid training program.” Noctis scoffed. “And he hasn’t even applied yet. Are you seriously blaming me for this?”

Ignis peered at Noctis for a short moment, before shaking his own head in the negative. “No. You care about him too much to jeopardise his wellbeing. I apologise if my tone was accusatory. I’m merely trying to understand the conundrum we are currently facing.”

Noctis scoffed again. “You and me both. I have no fucking clue what this is about.”

“Will you recount what occurred for me?”

“I can.” The teacher, who had been standing by, piped. “I saw everything from the front of the classroom. His Highness had his back turned at first.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Ignis said crisply. “Your assistance is no longer required, sir. Please take care of your other students, and lend me the room, if you’d be so hospitable. Thank you for your help, I’m sure King Regis will be impressed with your quick thinking in contacting me.”

The teacher flushed in pleasure. “O-of course!” He blustered, giving Ignis a ridiculous salute before ducking out of the room. The advisor waited until the man’s footfalls faded before pinching the bridge of his nose.

“ _Honestly.”_

“You shouldn’t have praised him.” Noctis said, with a curled lip. “That guy is a total asshole. He was bullying Prompto the moment he got into the room. It’s not fair he can get away with that-”

“Let’s focus on Prompto first.” Ignis interjected, not unkindly. “We can discuss your imbecilic educator after I’ve had a nice, steaming cup of Ebony.” 

“At least your priorities are intact.”

“Your teacher said you restrained Prompto bodily. Is this true?”

“Yeah. But I-“

Ignis sighed. A headache was rapidly forming in his temples. “Noct-“

“Can you not start lecturing me!?” Noctis snarled in outburst, evidently losing his patience. “Now isn’t the time, Ignis! And whatever the fuck happened to him, it _wasn’t_ a seizure. He just started banging his head on the desk, and didn’t stop!”

Ignis, who had opened his mouth to chide the prince for using foul language so loudly in a public vicinity, was suddenly rendered speechless. From the moment he had received the call, he had assumed Prompto had experienced a seizure. It was the most logical conclusion to reach after hearing the description of the blond’s behaviour…

But now that he looked over the blond again, without his pre-existing presumption, he noticed the makeshift pillow Noctis had put under Prompto’s head, clearly after the blond had continued banging it on the desk despite the prince’s beseeching.

For the first time, the advisor fully approached Prompto, intent on inspecting the blond’s face. “Prompto,” He addressed, enunciating clearly. “I need to check for any breaks or fractures. If you would please lift your head…”

Prompto didn’t.

Ignis cleared his throat.

Nothing.

_Non-verbal, then. At least his airway is clear._

Thankfully, he had noticed Prompto was breathing steadily the moment he’d entered the classroom. It was the first thing he’d checked. “Do you understand me?”

Another repeat of the silent treatment.

“Very well. Please remain calm.” Ignis requested, reaching out to gently grip the edges of Prompto’s face. “Highness, wold you please lift Prompto’s shoulders.”

“Yeah.” Noctis stood, and let out a grunt when Prompto squeezed his hand hard enough for the bones to give an ominous crack. “Dude, don’t worry. We aren’t going to hurt you.” He consoled. Then, quieter, “You trust me, don’t you?”

Prompto nodded once, jerkily. The first sign that he had been listening to their conversation.

“Then look up. You don’t need to be scared.” He coaxed. “I’m here for you.”

Prompto voiced something, his words muffled, but Noctis seemed to have no trouble interpreting it, as always. Sometimes, Ignis thought the pair communicated in a language he could never hope to learn, and trying only made him frustrated.

~~He would never confess to spending three hours Moogling what _‘memes’_ were, when the two kept snickering about them one evening. ~~

“Always.” Noctis responded, firmly. “My life wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Neither would mine.” Ignis added, a little jolted.

_It would seem he’s ashamed of what happened. Was the behaviour purposeful? A cry for attention? Considering the lack he receives from his parents…_

However, Prompto had always been _so shy_ around others. Certainly, he could put up a confident front if he tried hard enough, but there was no denying that the blond was a lot more reserved than most of his peers.

Which, really, wasn’t that uncommon considering his age. Prompto was still a teenager, and teenagers matured at their own paces, some slower than others. They were all unique individuals, and it wouldn’t do to lump them into categories, especially an individual as secretively complex as Prompto.

Seemingly encouraged by their heartfelt admittances, Prompto reluctantly raised his head.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The postictal state phase is the recovery period after a seizure. The type of seizure and severity usually dictate how long it lasts.
> 
> If you're confused why Ignis thought Prompto was having a seizure, it was because the teacher is unaware of Prompto's condition and didn't adequately provide the appropriate information. Ignis's brain went with the most likely scenario :)
> 
> I know this chapter isn't long, but I've written some of the next one already. I hope I did Ignis justice. 
> 
> THANK YOU to everyone who has commented so far. If you read my note above, you'll know I'm going to start replying to them when I can. If you'd prefer I wouldn't, just let me know and I'll refrain. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think of this chapter, if you'd like, and I hope you're all having a nice day/night wherever you are :D


	4. Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Definition of control: To order, limit, or rule something, or someone's actions or behaviour
> 
> Prompto's unusual nonchalance in the aftermath is a major cause of concern for Ignis, and a source of suspicion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooooo…
> 
> How long has it been, exactly? Nine months, give or take?
> 
> Anywhoooo,
> 
> Sorry that this chapter is so delayed. Life has been really hectic this year, between working, studying, and everything else in between. 
> 
> To be honest, this has been written for a long time, but I started feeling kind of intimidated about continuing this. It’s such a sensitive issue, for me, and for many people. I almost felt bad because I know that what I write here may not be what everyone expects when they hear the word ‘autism’, or what they like to read. Autism is so diverse, and I kinda hyped myself up trying to figure out how I should write this. 
> 
> I guess I wanna reiterate that anything I write here is what I’ve learned over time. It’s no persons one experience, or one set of research I’ve learned about. It’s just…a bit of everything. Experiences and knowledge all mixed together. 
> 
> I guess I don’t want to let anyone down who’s reading this. 
> 
> That said, I will remind everyone once more that I’m no expert. Just doin’ my best, and I hope you enjoy this short chapter. There’s more written, but we’ll see how this goes.
> 
> I’d also like to say thank you for all of your support. Your comments really encouraged me to continue, even if it took a while :)
> 
> ALSO, 
> 
> The last time I posted (it’s been 84 years) I somehow managed to backdate the entire chapter like a week, which confused the hell out of me. I think it was because I had it sitting in the draft folder for a few days before I published it. Sorry to anyone who couldn’t read it or got confused, I won’t be making that mistake again. 
> 
> Please enjoy :D

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Prompto’s eyes were red and watery, mouth dripping with blood.

“Did you bite your tongue?” Ignis was instantly alarmed.

Prompto shook his head slowly, and Ignis peered closer, noticing the bitten flesh of his lower lip.

_Self-inflicted._

In support of Noctis’s earlier statement, Prompto’s forehead was a fiery red from impacting with the desk, and Ignis was immediately wary of the blond having a concussion. Fortunately, there was no other swelling, and a thorough visual inspection was enough to satisfy Ignis’s worries about any fractured or broken bones.

The worst that could be expected was a concussion, and some light bruising. All in all, not a terrible outcome. Ignis had been expecting far worse, upon initially receiving the call. It was a momentous relief.

The tightness in Ignis’s chest abated somewhat, and he felt more able to breathe deeply. He hadn’t noticed how uptight he had become until now, muscles stiff and tensed as if prepared for a battle.

So much for remaining completely cool and composed…

He hated to think what he’d feel like if _the prince_ ever had a medical emergency at school. He’d probably keel over instantly. He would need to reflect on this later.

For now…

“Good quick-thinking.” Ignis praised, noticing the wadded up material Noctis had thought to use as a makeshift pillow. “It seems to have cushioned his skull nicely.”

“Does he have a concussion?” Noctis asked furtively, hardly noticing the compliment.

“I cannot tell yet.” Ignis said, truthfully. “I will conduct a more comprehensive examination when we return home to the apartment, whilst we wait for the doctor to arrive. I’ve been keeping a medical kit in the bathroom cabinet for occurrences such as these.”

“He won’t need to go to the hospital?”

“Prompto, are you experiencing any disorientation or confusion? Do you know where you are, and who you are speaking with?”

Prompto bobbed his head wordlessly, eyes averted.

Ignis held back the urge to sigh, not wanting to make Prompto feel tiresome. The other male was always so receptive to things like that. “Verbally, if you’d please.”

“I’m at school, with Noct and you.” His voice is small, and ashamed.

“Very good. Do you feel any nausea? Do you feel faint?”

“No.”

Noctis himself let out a relieved sigh at this, but Ignis pressed on in his meticulous questioning.

“Do you think you are in need of urgent medical attention?”

“I’m fine.” Prompto mustered up the tiniest, most pathetic smile Ignis had ever seen grace the boy’s freckled face. It was barely on the scale of the younger male’s usual, bright beams. “I’d just like to go home. I don’t know what came over me…”

“Has anything like this happened to you before?”

Prompto shook his head at Ignis’s predictable inquiry. “Nope. Sorry to disappoint.”

“Do you feel in control now?” Noctis asked this question, concernedly. “It was like you were possessed, dude. I couldn’t get you to stop no matter how hard I tried.”

“I’m in control.”

Prompto _wasn’t_ in control, though.

Ignis was.

And _he’d remain so_ until he got to the bottom of this downright _odd_ occurrence.

He doubted they’d be able to contact Prompto’s parents so soon, as lamentable as it was. In their absence, Ignis would take up the mantle. At least until someone more suited to the role of guardian stepped in. Perhaps the king would, he seemed amused by Prompto, even though some of the council had already raised concerns about the blond tarnishing Noctis’s reputation with his _commonness_ …

“Let’s return home.” Ignis decided. “We can discuss what occurred here today with your teacher at a later date. Your health should always take priority.”

“Do you need help standing?” Noctis jerked when Prompto made to get to his feet obediently, a tense expression on his face. “Prom-“

Prompto waved a hand at him, noncommittal. “I’m okay, man. Just a little…” He trailed off when he stood, a little unsteady on his feet. “Woozy…”

Noctis reached out a hand and steadied him, his grip on the blond’s shoulder unwavering. “Maybe you should sit down for a little longer.” He suggested, worriedly. “Your head probably won’t be able to take anymore hard impact, and if you faint-“

“Dude, I’m fine. Just chill, kay?” Alas, Prompto’s next step was too wobbly to be convincing. “Ha, jelly legs…”

Noctis sent Ignis a lost look, and the advisor took control of the situation, as always.

“If Gladio were here, I would have him carry you.” Ignis informed the blond, bluntly. “As it stands though-“

“Was that pun intentional? Or unintentional?” Prompto took a brave stab at regaining his typical comical tone, but it fell flat as Ignis continued without acknowledging his quip.

“-he is undertaking a new training course with Cor, and is indisposed. I probably have the strength to lift you, but-“

“You don’t want to leave Noct defenceless, right? Or you don’t want to be caught carrying around a loser like me.”

Noctis immediately frowned at the self-deprecating comment. “Prom-“

“I’m not a swooning damsel in distress.” Prompto interjected, with a firmness that was not usually expressed. The blond did not often speak in such a manner to his best friend. “I’m already going to be a laughing stock because of today, I don’t want to give them more ammunition. I’ll _never_ live it down if Iggy carries me out the doors like some baby-“

“Your reputation isn’t more important than your health, Prompto. Besides, if anyone laughs at you, I’ll-“

“Order them to stop?” Prompto interrupted, once more. “Use your princely authority to issue a cease and desist warning?”

Noctis opened his mouth-

“Because _that_ would go over well.” The blond went on sarcastically. “You’re supposed to be a regular student here. If you start bossing people around-“

“You mean sticking up for my best friend?”

“ ** _I can handle myself_** , Noct. Like I said, I’m not some helpless maiden or little kid-“

“Everyone needs help sometimes. Why do you insist on being so _stubborn_ -“

“Pot calling the kettle black, much? You’re the most stubborn guy I’ve ever met.” Despite the conversation having evolved into an argument, Prompto seems good-humoured, here. “Look, we can fight until you go blue in the face and the sun sets, but I’m _not_ changing my mind. I’m walking out of here, on my own two feet.”

“Seriously?” Noctis deadpanned, unimpressed, sensing the blond’s determination.

Prompto nodded, and the smile he managed to angle at his best friend was more sincere than the earlier travesty he had provided. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“Language.” Ignis scolded sharply, his voice reminding the two of his presence. He’d been watching and listening to the quarrel with mounting impatience, and was glad to see the pair had more or less resolved it themselves. Prompto, despite being out of sorts, had managed to impress him again. Even in a difficult situation, the blond had put the needs (and image) of the prince and his retainer above his own.

Undoubtedly, the blond was worried about being teased by his fellow students, but Ignis could sense that that wasn’t the _whole_ reason Prompto was being so unrelenting.

He knew that being carried by the royal retainer, like Ignis was a lowly babysitter, was problematic to the image the advisor had painstakingly cultivated for himself. As Prince Noctis’s chamberlain, it was his duty to serve his future king, and look infallible whilst doing it. Toting about a random civilian like a pack mule was hardly dignified, and damaged his reputation.

Ignis would do it, of course, but only if the situation required it.

And as matters stood…

_Ha._

There was no requirement for the advisor to carry Prompto to the car. Nor was there a need for Noctis to scurry along at their heels like a panicky puppy, showing both the staff faculty _and_ his peers that he was susceptible to panic, like a regular person…

Noctis, despite his position as prince, _was_ a regular person, at heart. Ignis knew this, even if he was hard on the other male, and consistently reminded him of his standing. (“You are not an anonymous civilian.”) He would tell Noctis. (“You’re a _prince_.”)

His own role as royal advisor prevented him from being the sympathiser, a lot of the time. He couldn’t diverge from his job and give in to Noctis’s whims too regularly, or indulge the side of him that yearned to just be a regular teenager on a daily basis.

Neither could Gladiolus. The shield had his own duties to adhere to, and the future king’s safety was paramount.

Prompto though…

He gave Noctis something neither of them could. Something they were forbidden to, as they had their retainer roles to uphold. They were protectors first, friends second. It had to be that way, to ensure the health of the future king.

Prompto would always be Noctis’s friend first, and foremost. _That_ was one of the main ways in how they differed.

And they _were_ all different, in both personality and duty.

But what banded them together, closer than anything, was their determination to keep their liege safe, and as happy as circumstances permitted. It united them, even when they were irritated with one another. Not that Ignis had ever seen Prompto _truly_ annoyed…

“Wrap an arm around each of our necks.” Ignis instructed, standing at the blond’s side. “Since carrying you out isn’t an option, we will at least assist you. You aren’t as co-ordinated as usual, Prompto. If you fall and injure yourself, matters will only escalate, and I’ll be forced to call an ambulance.”

“But-“

“No buts. Now, let’s get moving. The final bell for the day will toll in a few minutes, and navigating the halls will become tricky. I don’t want to have the principal evacuate the school, but if being jostled around is a probability-“

“Fine.” Prompto conceded, cheeks red at the mere prospect of such a fuss being made for him. He never wanted to impose on anyone, or cause any issues, and Ignis was knowingly using that quirk of his to his own advantage. If he wasn’t so impressed with the advisor’s cunning and wit, he might have been pissed off with the subtle manipulation. As it was, it wasn’t in his nature to be so petty.

Besides, it was kind of refreshing to have people acting so concerned about his welfare. Dealing with his autism had always seemed so solitary and isolated, and now he had two friends expressing care…

He still wouldn’t tell them, but he could appreciate it all nonetheless.

With a small pout, Prompto wrapped his two arms around the other male’s necks, trying not to lean on them too heavily. Noctis may have hit a bit of a growth spurt over the last couple of months (Prompto was a late-bloomer, but he’d probably catch up soon enough, their height difference had only ever been a few inches, ~~in the prince’s favour~~ ) and the advisor may have been taller than them both, but he didn’t want to strain their shoulders.

Without a hint of awkwardness or hesitation, Noctis looped an arm around his friend’s waist, securing him more snugly. Ignis didn’t follow the action, keeping his usual distance.

The advisor wasn’t one for unnecessary physical contact, although he’d grown more accustomed to the blond’s occasional hugs over the past year. It helped that Prompto always seemed a little unsure himself, like he was practising being open and affectionate. It shouldn’t be surprising, considering the lack of attention he received from his parents…

Ignis never had the heart to reject him. It seemed too cruel, like kicking a small, adorable animal.

_Or,_ he mused, noticing Prompto’s current messy hairstyle, _a chocobo._

“Slow and steady.” Ignis cautioned, as he took the first step, dragging the other two alongside him. “I’ll open the door.”

“Guys, you don’t need to do this-“

“Uh, yeah.” Noctis said. “We kind of do, dude. You’re our friend, remember?”

“Indeed.” Ignis added supportively. “Now, let’s not dilly-dally.”

“Ha.” Prompto gave a small, exhausted sounding laugh. “ _Dilly-dally_.” He tried imitating Ignis’s Tenebraen accent, sounding rather ridiculous in his attempt.

“That was horrible.” Noctis laughed, as they continued to the door. “Accents aren’t your forte.”

“ _Ouch._ There goes my career aspirations to become a foreign films actor…” Prompto whined, a faux wounded expression on his face. “That really hurt my feelings, man.”

_Perhaps Prompto is a more adept actor than we all initially assumed._

Ignis contemplated, as he one-handedly opened the classroom door. He took a surreptitious look outside, and nodded when he found the hallway empty. “Off we go.” He encouraged, when Prompto’s heels seemed to momentarily drug. Fleetingly, he worried the blond would stage another protest, this one more serious.

Fortunately, Prompto only inclined his head dejectedly, eyes averted as he allowed the advisor and the prince to aid him in his walking. He kept his head down as they navigated the halls, trusting Ignis and Noctis’s sense of direction. He seemed hyper-alert, twitching at the smallest noise, and he was chewing on his bottom lip again.

_Something isn’t right._

Ignis knew it.

Noctis knew it, even if he didn’t quite comprehend it yet.

It didn’t take heightened instincts or a high IQ to figure _that_ out.

Even more obvious, was the blatant way in which Prompto was trying to disregard what had just occurred. He’d always had a habit of making light of situations, but this was a little extreme, even for him. If this had never occurred before, he would have been more cautious. There was a sense of defeat to him as well, like it was inevitable something of this nature eventually come to pass…

Which led Ignis to a rather unwelcome hypothesis…

_Prompto knows what just happened. Or at least, he has a very good idea._

And he was going to try and keep it a secret.

_This doesn’t bode well._

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was Ignis's POV again because this chapter was originally meant to be part of the former. It's Prompto's turn next time. Not sure if all of these will be kept in a one POV per chapter format. Will have to wait and see :)
> 
> Since the first note was so long, this one will be short. Please tell me what you thought of the chapter (no pressure to do so, of course) and thank you very much for reading!
> 
> I hope you are all doing well in the new year :D


End file.
